They say having everything makes you perfect, and being perfect gets you everything. But what if that’s just a story we’re told? A nice, clean lie to make us believe that somewhere out there, someone actually has it all. That only the perfect person wins.

In reality? Nothing is perfect. We don’t always get what we want. Not even love is truly unconditional.

My name is Kang Y/n. I’m the eldest daughter of the Kang family, and the future heiress to the Kangwon Group.

On paper, I am that story. The rumours paint a perfect picture: a powerful family name, a handsome fiancé I’ve been with for three years, a life wrapped in luxury. Everything anyone could ever wish for.

And because of that picture, everyone thinks they know me. To them, I’m the arrogant heiress. The cold, spoiled brat who was born with a silver spoon and doesn’t know real work. They whisper that I’m cruel. That I don’t deserve my title, or my future seat at the head of my father’s company.

It’s ironic, really. I’ve spent the last four years of my life pouring everything into that company. I helped build it to where it is today. But none of that seems to matter.

So if not me, then who? Who do they think is “perfect” for the position?

The board has a favourite. They all recommend my younger sister, Kang Ji-yeon. My step-sister, to be specific.

Ji-yeon isn’t just my sister. She’s been my nightmare for eighteen years.

My life turned upside down when I was eight. That’s when my father walked into our home with his mistress, Mi-ran. She was holding a six-year-old girl in her arms. My father presented her as the Kang family’s youngest daughter.

My mother’s face that day… I was only a child, but I could feel her world breaking. I could see the light leave her eyes. After that, she spent too many nights staring at the ceiling. Her smiles became ghosts.

Her health started to fade. Three years later, when I was twelve, she was gone. The official report said it was an accidental overdose of her medication. But I knew, in that quiet, heavy way a child knows things, that it wasn’t an accident. My mother didn’t accidentally leave me. She was shattered by my father’s betrayal, and she just… let go.

A year after we buried her, my father married Mi-ran.

He’s a man obsessed with reputation. To quiet the society gossip about favouring his illegitimate child, he declared me, the firstborn from his rightful wife, as the official heiress. Not Ji-yeon.

He handed me a crown made of guilt and strategy.

I have never forgotten the quiet sound of my mother’s heart breaking. I have never forgotten her empty chair at the breakfast table.

And for that… I will never forgive him.

Never.

///

[Current time line: Evening: Party venue: 7:30 pm]:

The gentle hum of the party was a familiar, hollow sound. It was the sound of polished silverware on fine china, of low conversations that held more calculation than warmth. I was floating through it, a smile fixed in place, until a burst of genuine energy cut through the noise.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!”

Jane appeared like a splash of color in a grey world, rushing over the moment she spotted me. Her hug was tight, quick, and real, the first real thing I’d felt all evening.

“You look stunning as ever,” she said, pulling back to look at me. Her smile was the only one that reached someone’s eyes tonight. It made mine feel a little less forced.

“Thank you,” I said, the word coming out softer than I intended.

She smirked, that familiar, knowing glint in her eye. “What a polite little girl,” she teased, and I finally shook my head, a real laugh threatening to surface.

I could never stay fully guarded with Jane. She was my happy pill, the only person in a room like this, a room full of people here to broker deals or curry favor with the Kangwon name, who made me feel like just me.

Her gaze swept over the crowd then, her expression shifting from playful to searching. “By the way, where is Jungkook?”

My own smile tightened imperceptibly. I watched her scan the glittering room, looking for a face that wasn’t there.

“I haven’t seen him today,” she added, her voice losing its lightness.

When she looked back at me, her brows were drawn together. “Don’t tell me he’s not attending your birthday party this year as well.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, loaded with an anger and frustration she wore openly for my sake. She’d already pieced the answer together.

I felt the old, practiced mask settle into place. A faint, placating smile touched my lips as I shook my head. “That’s not the case. He is just…” The excuse felt ash-dry in my mouth. “…just too busy these days—”

“Y/n, he’s always busy when it comes to anything related to you.”

Her words didn’t just cut me off; they cut through a carefully nurtured illusion, sharp and clean. The truth in them stung more than I wanted to admit.

“He was here for Ji-Yeon’s birthday party, though,” she pressed, her voice dropping to a heated whisper. “All smiles and that ridiculous giant teddy bear. But when it’s your birthday, he’s suddenly busy?” She let out a short, bitter scoff. “You really don’t have to make empty excuses for your fiancé. He’s just like any other man. I hate him. I swear.”

I fell silent. What defence was there? She wasn’t lying. The memory was a clear, painful snapshot: Jungkook, laughing beside Ji-Yeon as she blew out her candles. His consistent, conspicuous absence at anything meant for me—except, of course, for the business parties where our engagement was a useful asset to display.

The music and chatter of my own birthday party swirled around us, a festive backdrop to the quiet truth hanging between me and my best friend. She had said out loud what I had been too proud, or too tired, to fully admit.

He was here for her. He was never here for me.

My gaze dropped. A hot, prickling feeling of shame crawled up my neck. It wasn't the opulent room or the watching eyes that made me uncomfortable now, it was the way Jane’s words held up a mirror, and the reflection staring back looked… pathetic.

But I couldn’t show her that. I never could.

Slowly, I lifted my chin, letting that practiced, cool smile settle on my lips, the one people called arrogant, the one that built walls. “Excuse me.”

“Y/n…” Her face fell, the frustration melting into instant concern. She saw right through me.

I gave a quick, dismissive shake of my head. “Don’t worry. I am fine. I will see you later.”

I didn’t wait for her reply. I just turned and walked, my heels clicking a steady, retreating rhythm on the marble floor, leading me away from the chandelier glow and the hollow laughter.

I needed air. Real air.

A few minutes later, I stood on an empty balcony, the sounds of the party muffled behind glass doors. The champagne flute was cold in my hand. I watched the city lights glitter like scattered diamonds below.

This day was supposed to be mine. But all I felt was a sick, hollow ache inside. It was the strangest contradiction…to own everything, and yet to feel like you own nothing at all. The world saw a perfect life, a perfect person, but they never saw the emptiness holding it all up.

A soft, cold evening breeze swept across the balcony, tugging at the loose strands of my hair and nipping at my nose. The physical chill was a relief. It was something real to match the colder feeling locked inside my chest.

How pathetic. The Ice Queen of Seoul, standing alone in the dark, yearning for a warmth everyone assumed she was too cold to need.

Jeon Jungkook. My fiancé. The heir to the Jeon empire,our family's allied partner for decades.

To the world, Jungkook is straightforward, stern, a young genius who reshaped the business landscape before he had turned thirty at the young age of 26. He took the Terra Jeon Group global. He’s a legend in the making.

But what no one knows… is that he’s been my secret, silent dream since I was seven years old. I loved him before I even fully understood what the word meant. He was the hero of every childhood fantasy, the face I looked for in every crowded room.

When our families announced our engagement at twenty-three, sealing a powerful alliance, I thought the universe had finally listened. I was the luckiest person alive.

What could be better than building a life with the man you’ve always loved? My exterior remained composed, my celebrated coldness intact, but inside… I was floating.

Maybe I was just too young to see it. What I'd dreamed of wasn't a fairy tale; it was a nightmare, carefully wrapped in glittering gift paper.

Now, at twenty-six, after three years of being his fiancée, all I'm left with are questions.

For three entire years, Jungkook has found reason after reason to delay our wedding. I was too in love, too hopeful, to question why. But now… the need to understand is a cold, hard knot in my stomach.

I can’t remember the last time he smiled at me…a real smile, one that reached his eyes. I can’t remember the last conversation we had that lasted longer than three minutes, that wasn't about stocks, meetings, or family obligations.

My eyes stayed fixed on a dark, hollow point in the winter sky. I took a sip of champagne. It tasted like nothing.

A long, heavy sigh escaped me. It felt broken, as if my body was fighting to hold everything in…to keep the dam from breaking. To stop even a single tear.

The last time I cried was at my mother’s funeral. Since then, it's like I've lost the ability. I feel the sadness, the pressure, but it's trapped, with no way out.

How cruel is that? They say a good cry can make you feel better, but I'm not even allowed that. Everything just sits there, inside, slowly eating me alive.

It sucks.

“Ms. Kang.”

A voice came from behind the glass doors. I didn't move for a moment. I just breathed, letting the cold air solidify my expression, my posture. The mask clicked back into place. Then, slowly, I turned.

It was Jungkook's driver, Mr. Choi. A man I knew too well from countless silent car rides.

He stood with his hands clasped formally behind his back. “Mr. Jeon is waiting for you downstairs. I am here to escort you.”

I just blinked at him. The words didn't make sense at first.

Did he just say… Jungkook was here? For my birthday?

A foolish, fragile hope fluttered in my chest. I was too stunned to speak until he gently prompted again. “Ms. Kang?”

“Ah. Yes,” I said, my voice thankfully steady. I quickly placed my glass on a nearby table and followed him, my mind racing.

He remembered. He actually came.

The faint, cold feeling inside me thawed by a single, dangerous degree. I knew it was stupid. I knew I was an idiot for this tiny spark of warmth. But he was here. He was finally making an attempt.

As I followed Mr. Choi down the private elevator, away from the party noise, I let that fragile smile touch my lips. Just for a second. Just for me.

Mr. Choi stopped at the edge of the veranda, gesturing toward the shadowy, manicured gardens. "He is waiting by the fountain, Ms. Kang. I will take my leave from here to give you both some privacy."

I nodded, a silent understanding passing between us, and watched his retreating figure disappear back toward the service entrance.

Alone now, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. One last, fragile smile touched my lips. See? a hopeful, foolish part of me whispered. You were overthinking. Making assumptions. After three years, maybe… just maybe he’s starting to feel it, too. He’s here, isn’t he?

That small, defiant hope propelled me forward. I decided to approach quietly, wanting to see him first, to have just one unguarded moment before he noticed me.

The crunch of gravel under my heels gave way to the soft whisper of damp grass as I entered the garden. The sound of the fountain grew louder, a gentle, constant splash in the winter-quiet night. And then, cutting through it, came his voice.

I paused, instinctively stepping into the shadow of a large, sculpted evergreen.

"I'm only here because you insisted," his voice was low, sharp with impatience. It was a tone I knew well, the one he reserved for frustrating board members or incompetent suppliers. "Stop forcing me to attend these parties. You know I despise them."

My breath hitched. I remained perfectly still, peering through the frost-tipped branches.

"Dad," he continued, his sigh heavy with exasperation. "You know the situation. I am marrying her out of obligation. A business alliance. Nothing more. It is not my duty to play the doting fiancé at her birthday. But fine. I'm here. I will wish her, give her the gift, and leave. I've told you, I will give her every right, every respect, the full title of Mrs. Jeon when we marry. But do not push this performance on me any further."

The words didn't just hit me; they unmade me.

For a second, the world didn't just tilt…it shattered. The cold night air vanished from my lungs.

A ringing silence filled my head, hollowed out everything, and then his voice rushed back in, a torturous echo on a loop: Out of obligation. A business alliance. Nothing more.

I watched, numb, as he ended the call. He stood there under the soft garden lights, by the glistening fountain, looking utterly composed.

He stared down at his phone, a faint, weary irritation on his face. And then, as if murmuring to the night itself, he spoke the final, devastating sentence.

"If only it were Ji-yeon in her place… everything would have been so much simpler."

The whisper was quiet, almost thoughtful. But in the stillness, it was louder than any shout.

Every shred of warmth, every foolish hope that had sparked to life minutes ago, froze and then turned to ash. The cold I’d felt on the balcony was nothing compared to this. This was the deep, absolute freeze of a truth you can never un-know.

He wasn't here for me. He was here under duress. And the woman he truly wanted… was my sister.

~